She shivered as the absolute sincerity in his tone came home to her. Then she lifted her chin defiantly as she realized he was doing it again! Despite all her resolutions, Brody was manipulating her emotions and intimidating her just as he'd done last night.
"I can't say I'm interested in either your sexual fantasies or your possessive delusions, Mr. Brody," she said icily. "And I certainly don't intend to indulge you by paying the slightest attention to any strictures you attempt to place on me. I run my life as I see fit."
"Rex, damn it," he bit out. "And you'll be very interested in my sexual fantasies in the near future, I promise you." He drew a deep breath and ran his hand through his crisp dark hair. "But all that isn't important right now. I have to be in New York by late this afternoon, and you're coming with me. Now, let's get moving."
"Perhaps you didn't hear me. I can't possibly leave today," Tamara said. "So I'd suggest you leave without me."
"Of course you can leave today," Rex asserted arrogantly. "All you need is a little organization. Now-what do you have to do?"
Tamara sighed resignedly and counted slowly to ten. She spoke with painstaking slowness as to a very young child. "I have to discuss my plans with my aunt. I have to pack. I have to give at least a week's notice to Mr. Bettencourt, and I have to find someone to care for my plants while I'm gone."
He frowned impatiently. "I’ll help you pack. That shouldn't take long. You can call your aunt from New York and explain. You don't have to worry about Walter. I told him at breakfast I was taking you with me today."
"Wasn't that a trifle presumptuous of you?" she asked angrily. "I owe the store at least a week's notice, and it was my place to speak to my employer."
"I was hoping to spare you the awkwardness of what I assumed would be a painful situation." His voice was dangerously soft. "I'd forgotten how close you once were. Perhaps you wanted to bid him a fond farewell."
"As you're quite sure I have the morals of an alley cat, you may find it difficult to believe I have other motivations in my relationships with men other than luring them into bed with me," she said caustically, rising to her feet. "I owe Mr. Bettencourt a great deal. It's only courteous to give him notice personally."
Rex's lips twisted cynically. "I wouldn't worry about that if I were you. I got the distinct impression that Walter was quite relieved not to have to speak to you. I gather that Celia was almost hysterical last night after you stalked out of the ballroom like a disdainful princess. I think it will be much more comfortable for Walter this way."
"I guess you're right," Tamara said, a trace of bleakness in her violet eyes. "Perhaps I'd better take you up on the offer of that boutique on Rodeo Drive. I don't imagine Rex Brody's latest mistress will be very welcome in Somerset."
Rex frowned again. "The whole world doesn't revolve around this little Peyton Place, you know. I promised I'd protect you."
"The world might not, but Aunt Elizabeth's life certainly does. For that matter, so has mine for almost twenty-three years," she said.
"I told you I'd make everything right for you."
"There are times when you can't just wave a checkbook and have everything fall into place."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he said ironically. "I think I can demonstrate that I have a few more assets than the ones in my bank account." He gestured impatiently. "Now that we've disposed of your arguments, shall we start packing?"
She shook her head decisively. "Even if I agreed with your rather arbitrary disposal of my other objections, I still have no one to care for my plants."
He gave the interior of the greenhouse a cursory glance. "Surely your aunt could water your flowers for you," he said carelessly.
"Plants," she corrected firmly. "And they require a good deal more attention than watering. I've spent two years developing and nurturing some of these strains, and I'm not about to forfeit all my work by putting someone in charge who has little or no knowledge of horticulture. You’ll have to wait until I can hire a competent person. What can a week matter?"
"It matters," Rex said grimly. "Let me get this straight. You won't come with me because you haven't got someone to babysit a bunch of plants?"
"I'm delighted I've finally gotten through to you," Tamara said with a demure satisfaction she didn't bother to conceal. "That's exactly what I mean. So you’ll just have to do without me until I'm free, won't you?"
"Like hell I will!" he said explosively. He turned and strode out of the greenhouse, slamming the door behind him with a violence that caused the glass panels to vibrate.
Tamara flinched involuntarily. It seemed the forceful Mr. Brody wasn't at all pleased on the odd occasion when he didn't get his own way. Well, he'd just have to become accustomed to it, because she was through jumping whenever he snapped his fingers. There was a serene smile on her face as she once more picked up her trowel and began to work.
Four
Tamara worked contentedly at her gardening for the remainder of the day, resolutely blocking out the thought of anything that even remotely reminded her of either Rex or the upsetting events of the last twenty-four hours. In fact, she was so successful that it came as a tiny shock when Aunt Elizabeth called her for the evening meal, and she realized it was nearly sundown. She quickly checked the thermostat on the wall and hurried out of the greenhouse and across the backyard to the house.
Aunt Elizabeth, looking trim and youthful in blue jeans and a neat white blouse, was at the stove stirring a concoction that smelled gloriously appetizing.
Tamara gave her a fleeting kiss on the back of her neck as she went by. "I’ll be with you in fifteen minutes, love."
"No hurry. It's only soup and sandwiches tonight. I knew you'd need to shower so I called you a bit early."
It may have been only soup and sandwiches but when Tamara sat down at the kitchen table opposite her aunt some thirty minutes later, the meal looked mouthwateringly delicious. Crusty, golden homemade bread, thinly sliced ham and roast beef, and Aunt Elizabeth's vegetable soup which was always sheer ambrosia.
"Absolutely fabulous," Tamara said enthusiastically as she helped herself to sliced tomatoes from the blue willow platter.
"Hunger makes the best sauce," Aunt Elizabeth quoted, then she frowned. "I see you didn't touch the tuna salad."
"I forgot," Tamara murmured guiltily.
"You always do." Her aunt sighed. "You'd starve to death if there weren't someone around to remind you to eat."
"Well, you are around," Tamara said, grinning. "And you can't say I'm not a healthy specimen. Did you enjoy yourself at Reverend Potter's?"
"Oh yes, it was very pleasant," Aunt Elizabeth said vaguely, still gazing at Tamara with a frown. "I do hope that young man makes sure you eat properly."
Tamara's hand, in the act of reaching for the ladle of the soup tureen, froze for a brief instant in midair before completing the action with careful precision. "Young man?" she asked casually, lowering her lashes to veil her eyes. "What young man?"
"Why, the one with the music, dear," her aunt said matter-of-factly. She lifted her spoon to her lips and tasted the soup, and a pleased smile lit her face. "I tried a dash of paprika in this recipe tonight. I believe it gives the soup a nice lift."
Tamara sighed as she put the ladle back in the tureen and looked up to meet her aunt's serene gaze. At times there were definite disadvantages to living with an honest-and-true psychic. "Okay, Madame Zara, how much do you know?"